


To put the stars in counted order

by danythunder



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No Betas We Fall Like Crowley, Smut, Switching, Wings, [in crowleys voice] ETERNITY BAYBEEEE, crowley is rahatiel fight me, freckles arent angel kisses, if the sight of the stars makes you horny do read this, if you are queasy about the mechanics of wings dont read this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-09-06 04:20:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20285296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danythunder/pseuds/danythunder
Summary: After his Fall, Crowley was left with marks of his time as an angel. Everyone thought they were something else, including Aziraphale. After his Fall, every year on the anniversary of his sulphur spa, Crowley is reminded of what he lost.





	1. Some time after the failed end of the world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is entirely based on [this post ](https://glorfy-the-bright-haired-ellon.tumblr.com/post/186802557161/lol-what-if-crowley-had-freckles-that-were-stars)

There is no healing, thought Crowley. You just get far enough away from the trauma to pretend it didn't happen. Maybe sometimes you're lucky enough to actually forget about it, but it will always come back.

There is no emptiness, no pain, no panic like Falling.

There is nothing like Falling.

Aziraphale hummed as he turns the page of his book, blissfully unaware of the chasm opening inside of Crowley’s chest. The demon counted the sunsets in his head and sighed. Aziraphale shifted at the noise but didn’t look up from his reading. It was almost that day again.

The day he did a million-lightyear freestyle dive into a pool of boiling sulphur. He’s danced around it with Aziraphale, in passing barbs and derisive quips, but Crowley had never spoken a word about what actually happened. He had never even told Aziraphale his true name, but then again, Aziraphale had never asked.

Crowley slithered off of the couch and sauntered towards the door, hoping he looked casual. He felt far from it. “Going out, angel, be back soon.” He felt Aziraphale’s gaze digging into his back and hunched his shoulders as he quickly sidled through the door of the bookshop.

Crowley breathed in the damp air of Soho and kept his head down, his normally languid pace somewhat hurried as he made the three-block journey to his own flat. He could drive, somewhere, and be alone for the next 24 hours. It would be preferable to suffering Aziraphale’s concern, Crowley sniffed. He had always managed to slip away in previous decades and centuries, but it was a bit more difficult after Armageddidn’t.

As he walked, Crowley considered the way Aziraphale had slotted perfectly into his daily routine, and how the angel had conspiratorially invited him to daily lunches and dinners, and eventually even breakfasts. They spent most of their waking time together, which suited Crowley just fine. He wouldn’t admit to having nightmares about the bookstore burning down around him as the lack of Aziraphale crushed his lungs.

The key clicked into the lock and Crowley exhaled raggedly as he stepped into his own space. They had fallen into their life together in Aziraphale’s bookstore, not that Crowley would complain, his own place had always been drafty. The plants trembled at first, but slowly relaxed as no words of terror rained upon their immaculate leaves. The number of sunrises their cells had absorbed was indicative of what was about to come instead, and if it were possible, the plants would have felt pity.

This was going to be a particularly bad year, Crowley acknowledged as he kicked off his shoes and tumbled into his desk chair. There was probably something to be said about proportionate amounts of joy and pain, he chagrined, the months after Armageddidn’t had been steeped in more love and stolen intimacy than all of the ages before combined. He puffed a breath at the memories of Aziraphale’s chiming laughter and warm smiles over one too many miraculous bottles of wine.

Well, it was worth it. Whatever retribution She felt necessary in exchange for such a life was only one day compared to the other 364 spent basking in Aziraphale’s presence. The sun filtered low through the blinds and Crowley squinted, curling in on himself in the enormous chair. Dusk was falling and he hated the sight of the clear night sky.

Aziraphale knew enough to know that Crowley had created stars, that much had slipped out in one of their accidentally intimate moments before Armageddidn’t. It had never come up again and Crowley was thankful. The freckles across his face burned through with a flash of pain and he winced, it seemed like She was getting started early this year. He let his wings unfurl and spread across the arms of his chair, easier to let Her have them before She decided to force them out.

The sleek and black feathers disgusted him. Aziraphale loved them, of course, cooed and awed over them whenever Crowley let him groom them. Which had been unnecessarily often in the past few months, Crowley admitted to himself, he had let his wings be knocked around just so he could ask Aziraphale to run warm and kind hands through them. Hopefully Aziraphale wouldn’t question it after this, as Crowley was sure they would need extra attention. In ages past, She had almost broken them in Her anger.

Crowley pulled his sunglasses across his desk and turned them over in his hands. Aziraphale had convinced him to stop wearing them in the bookstore and he was slowly letting go of the habit in public, as it stopped too many strangers from speaking to them when they went out together. He didn’t like the flare of jealousy in his chest when humans basked in the glow of Aziraphale’s warm affection, but Crowley would never in a million years ask for that attention himself.

He didn’t deserve it.

The last drops of sunlight drained from the room and he heaved his now heavy chest up from his boneless sprawl. Crowley meant to head down the stairs and slither behind the wheel of the Bentley, slamming the accelerator until he was so far outside of London, his angel couldn’t feel what was coming. He paused, uncomfortable with the thought of lying to Aziraphale about where he had been, but it was better than the alternative. Punishment of a Fallen angel was something that no one should have to witness, it was something meant to be endured by the offender alone.

Crowley took a step towards his door before the full throat of panic wiped any remaining thoughts of Aziraphale from his mind. He blindly stumbled against his desk, She was already here. The plants were unnaturally still as they waited, and in a blitz of light, Crowley was sucked out of the room. Three blocks away, Aziraphale gasped and dropped his book as he felt Her mind turn to him just for a moment, then fear for Crowley struck him.

* * *

Crowley opened his eyes and felt his stomach drop. He was suspended in space, his wings fully spread behind him as though pinned to distant stars, and the Holy blue and green world beneath him spun gracefully in the radiance of the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come yell at me on tumblr @ [keeperofthesourcecode](https://keeperofthesourcecode.tumblr.com)


	2. 24 hours is a long time without you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley spends some time in space with a God who is less cruel than he remembers, and eventually faces his past, but not in the way you would imagine a demon faces their past.

He knew what happened next. He flinched against his frozen wings and gritted his teeth, waiting for the burn of Holy light in his body.

It did not come. Crowley waited, watching the Earth roll by beneath him, the last tendrils of an ocean on the right and the vast expanse of a continent coming to center.

He thought of Aziraphale nervously. He picked out the stars he had once held in his hands and imagined cradling them once again. He thought of making a new one, with a specific ratio of hydrogen and helium, in a stellar nursery not so far from where he was now. It would be just a few hundred lightyears from Earth, similar magnitude to the star Rigel in Orion, and Crowley already knew what it would be named.

Zira. It was a nickname he had created for Aziraphale but was much too afraid to try out. Some angels were very particular about their names. He should know, he used to be one of them. Back then, when he made stars.

His attention was brought back to Earth. Crowley wanted to go back. Maybe that was the plan this time. To make him watch time slip by, so far away from his angel. Surely She knew about that by now. Something something ineffable. Crowley grimaced as the strain on his wings edged towards pain, he hadn’t used them in so long much less kept them fully extended. The sun warmed his covert feathers, but not enough to dispel the ache of being pinned like a bug in a shadowbox. Then he felt it.

Crowley gasped and flexed his fingers, the freckles on his face turned into burning pricks in his skin. The Holy light spread through him, like ice in his veins, all the way to his fingers and toes. He felt something like sadness, hung in the sky like one of his own creations and filled with liquid fire. He stupidly wondered if Aziraphale could see him when the world spun back around.

The burning faltered and receded to his chest. Crowley dared not even breathe, lest She decide to flood the rest of him again. It was still incredibly painful, but more manageable. Aziraphale would be miserable if he knew how much pain Crowley would bear before saying it aloud. Best this was a secret between him and Her then. The Holy fire retreated even more, crawling up his throat to settle back into his freckles.

Crowley let his lips twitch out of curiosity, one eyebrow creeping up. Did She not like it when he thought of Aziraphale? He felt the feathers on his wings ruffle as though a warm breath were exhaled over them. A solar flare passed him by, the whirling vortices of particles sparking in his vision as it raced harmlessly towards the planet. Crowley thought about taking Aziraphale to see the aurora. His freckles smoldered down to embers on his skin.

_Is he one of your favorites?_ Crowley Thought, not sure if She could hear it but willing to try. In response, his eyes watered as his wings were hoisted higher behind his back. At least it wasn’t another round of defeathering, that had been a particularly cruel year. He could imagine Aziraphale’s hands stroking the feathers back into place, humming as he ran fingers through Crowley’s primaries. His wings were released at once.

Crowley pulled his wings to his body, scapular feathers twitching as his shoulder muscles knotted in the process. He bit back a groan, knowing from experience that She punished weakness shown in this process. His only weakness now was Aziraphale, and that seemed to be an unexpected common ground between himself and God.

A familiar twist wrung his stomach as She moved, taking Crowley with Her. Time was warping around him, taking space with it. He closed his eyes and willed the lump in his throat down, feeling the unwinding of his celestial insides as the warping stopped. When Crowley opened his eyes again, he whimpered.

It was the Beginning. He remembered it, he always had, but now he was there again. Crowley was one of the first angels, with wings so white they were almost silver, and silver and gold spots dotting the bridge of his nose to represent all of the stars he had whispered into existence. The Metatron had read off the names of all he was responsible for, but Crowley had made many, many more than that. She was not happy with that, he suspected, and that was the beginning of his sauntering downwards.

Now Crowley stood at the Beginning as something else, the culmination of all of that freedom and choice. Matter pulsed as Time rolled forward, baryons and leptons met, and around him the earliest stars were born and collapsed in what seemed like a heartbeat. Crowley was confused. This didn’t seem much like punishment, it seemed more like a history lesson.

He thought of Aziraphale. What the angel would think of seeing all of this Creation, the careful glassblowing of the celestial sphere? What part had the angel played before they met on the top of a warm stone wall? He wanted to curse the Almighty for throwing him out so soon, wanted to scream and snap Time to a halt and hold Her accountable for six thousand years of heart-wrenching conversations with someone who had considered him not worthy.

That thought caught him off guard, and apparently it startled Her as well. Time righted itself and Crowley found himself at the orbital center of Alpha Centauri AB. Over centuries on Earth, he knew some of his Creations died absolutely beautiful deaths, supernovae and nebula that humans had to wait years to observe. Crowley knew the precise instance they each happened, he could feel it in the flecks on his cheeks. He had nudged a few intellectual minds around to speed up the invention of telescopes, a venture that humans joined with a level of fascination that pleased Crowley.

Humans didn’t care that he had made too many stars, they were obsessed with them. And Crowley's lack of regret certainly had nothing to do with how Aziraphale would excitedly describe the ever-changing night sky, as though Crowley didn’t know it by heart, and the mountain of first edition astronomy texts collecting dust in a certain bookshop in London. Crowley cringed as Her attention grew more intense, that thought had let a little too much Love flare out.

At once his wings were moved by an invisible force, slowly pulled away from his body with much more care than She had given before. Crowley felt himself being twisted in the light of Alpha Centauri A, more luminous than the sun despite being of similar size. He knew his wings were black, the color burned out from the Fall. He let his self-loathing seep through as She handled the thin bones and he waited for a snap he was always afraid was coming.

Instead, his wings were warmed, like when Aziraphale pulled him closer to the fireplace to dry out his feathers. It continued until it was almost uncomfortable, then tipped over into painful. Quickly the heat approached the boiling sulphur, and Crowley shuddered with his eyes closed. He felt the flash of anger from earlier return but quickly melt into sadness, if She was going to burn his wings out again then he would never return to the bookstore. Aziraphale deserved better than a twice Fallen angel.

His freckles were burning now too, and his palms. That one was new, but Crowley was too afraid to look. He felt his throat working and tears sliding out of his still-shut eyes. Aziraphale would hate him, much more than he ever did the first time. It was so unfair, Crowley could almost feel the warm stones beneath his feet as he had grinned, already lovesick, at the most gorgeous creature in existence anxiously crying out _I gave it away! _

At once, the pain stopped and was replaced by such a wash of Love, it stunned Crowley into opening his eyes. He was far from Alpha Centauri AB now and his stomach quivered at the thought of being moved while in such burning agony. He had no idea how he hadn’t felt it and he decided he was okay with that.

Now, Crowley was facing himself, or more accurately what used to be himself. He blinked and both Crowley and Rahatiel turned to look at the vast expanse of interstellar space surrounding them. Crowley looked back and was disconcerted to find Rahatiel did the same. It was such a shame he never met Aziraphale like that. Maybe the angel would have given him a chance when they met again on Earth, maybe he wouldn’t have been Public Enemy Number One at first sight.

Crowley sighed and so did Rahatiel. He reached forward and so did Rahatiel. Crowley found himself palm to palm with a past version of himself, but before he could open his mouth, his body literally burst into flames a la the Bentley on its way to Armageddidn’t. He jerked his hand back and watched as Rahatiel did the same, both of them pillars of fire in the middle of a very terrible emptiness.

_You have been, and always will be, what you see._ The Thought was not his own and Crowley fought the urge to cower. _What he sees does not dictate what he Loves, it is what you do. _Crowley felt himself burning hotter than he had ever felt before and finally his voice broke in a scream that echoed around him, and suddenly, around him was not space but home.

* * *

Crowley crumpled to the floor of the bookstore, barely registering anything other than the sense of being where he belonged before his mind slid into a blank darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're getting to the sex, but we're going to make it reeeal emotional first


	3. It matters until it doesn't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley returns to Earth and wakes up one week later to a much different body. Aziraphale admits that it was never about the demon thing and they finally figure out what a bed is really for.

Crowley dreamed of creation. His hands full of light and something new, pulling something into the world for the first time. How the gentle Love he infused it with would mark his celestial body, adding another golden fleck to the dozens that adorned his nose and cheeks. In his sleep he stretched his wings and wasn’t afraid to look at them, to let them support his weight. Beside him was an angel with an open smile and kind blue eyes, and there was a new star hanging in the deep velvet sky.

In his sleep, Crowley looked back into his own eyes suspended in the void and chose the path he had always wanted.

When Crowley woke up, a trembling angel was curled around him in a bed full of feathers.

“M’wake,” he gasped, not sure why he was being held so fiercely, “M’sorry.” Aziraphale looked positively stricken as he raised his head out of Crowley’s long curls. Wait, his hair was definitely shorter before. Crowley tried to sit up and groaned at the sensation of disused muscles.

“You were asleep for so long, Crowley, I was debating calling-“ Aziraphale’s hands were hovering over Crowley’s thighs as the angel sat up next to him. “How long?” Crowley demanded, staring down at the lovely tartan blankets he had apparently been wrapped in. Aziraphale sucked in a breath and finally let his hands settle onto Crowley’s knees, “A week. I tried healing you but, well, I couldn’t really find what was wrong, but you were in pain and I could feel it. Crowley, where did you go? How did this happen?”

Crowley scrunched his shoulders up and leaned forward, realizing the feathers surrounding them were his own. “It’s a long story, angel.” Aziraphale flared with anger and worry beside him, “Tell me or I will miracle you to this bed until Anathema arrives.” Crowley didn’t like the idea of the witch prodding him without being able to bat her hands away. He grimaced, “It’s something that happens to, ya know, the ones like me. She likes to give us annual reminder of what we are.”

Aziraphale’s hands tightened involuntarily on his knees, “What do you mean, a reminder? Is that how this happened?” Crowley furrowed his brow and met the angel’s gaze, “What do you think happened?” Aziraphale’s left hand slowly raised to Crowley’s face and swept reverently across his cheek up to the bridge of his nose, “This.” He sounded awed and emotional, leaving Crowley wide-eyed with his pulse in his throat.

Crowley was hyper-aware of his body. The curls tumbling over his shoulder were the typical burnt red, all of his limbs were in proper working order, he didn’t quite understand the number of feathers around him but he could feel all his wings folded away on the celestial plane and oh wait – _all of his wings_.

Crowley wormed out from under Aziraphale’s hands and stood shakily next to the bed. Aziraphale moved as though to stand beside him and Crowley held up one hand in a plea. “Did you see them? Are they all there?” He searched Aziraphale’s blue eyes, uncomfortable with the amount of emotions displayed on his face, “What color are they?” The angel swallowed hard and opened his mouth without a sound.

Crowley stumbled into the bathroom and winced as he wrenched his back muscles to unfurl three pairs of wings. He stuttered into the floor length mirror until Aziraphale’s shaky sigh from the doorway made him turn. Crowley had no idea what the expression sitting on the angel’s face was and he was too distracted to care. He held out his hands at arm’s length and stared at his palms. They were fine, nothing seemed different, but the phantom of the burning pain ghosted through his fingers.

Crowley looked back into the mirror and choked on another noise as he realized his freckles were no longer a dull brown. With each tilt of his head, radiant gold shimmered across his face, the same gold that drenched his marginal covert feathers to peak at his alula and fade down into ivory in the tips of his primary and secondary flights. His hair seemed to shine against the new colors, and he couldn’t find a single black feather as he twisted around.

Aziraphale was still staring, looking for all the world like someone who had just found religion. “Did you do this?” snapped Crowley, pointing a long finger accusingly at the angel. Aziraphale looked shocked first then ashamed, “I had been praying that you might be forgiven, but I had no idea…” He trailed off into silence, looking at the white tiles of the bathroom floor. Crowley opened his mouth and closed it a few times, feeling sincerity and something he didn’t want to name in Aziraphale’s words. He could feel the blood rush to his cheeks as he realized that he was completely nude and snatched a towel from the basket beside the bathtub, tucking it around his waist with shaking fingers.

Aziraphale moved further into the bathroom, eyes shining as he reached for Crowley’s hand. “Who are you?” he whispered, a question that Crowley knew he had never dared to ask before. Crowley considered the choice in front of him and shivered at the weight of his answer. “I am still Crowley. I was… Rahatiel. I don’t think forgiveness could grant that part back, but this is…” he closed his mouth to work back the lump climbing up his throat, stepping forward. Aziraphale met him, pulling him into the tightest hug Crowley had ever known. “I don’t care who you were. You’re still you.”

Crowley felt his throat close up as the first sob wracked his chest and he crumpled into Aziraphale’s arms. That was not what Aziraphale expected from his gasp but he held Crowley up and maneuvered them back to the bed, which was still full of molted feathers. Crowley flinched at the sight and Aziraphale snapped to clear them away, “I am so sorry dear, I thought you might want… Proof.” He tugged Crowley down next to him with worried eyes.

“What have, have you been here the whole time?” Crowley had no idea where to start, but he had his suspicion that he hadn’t molted in a week without some help. Aziraphale blushed furiously and squirmed, “Well, yes. I wasn’t just going to leave you downstairs on the floor, that seemed… Rude.” Crowley remembered sinking his face onto the cold floor, acknowledging that he was no longer pinned in space before the dreaming began. “Plus,” Aziraphale continued, “You were in immense pain and your wings were such a mess… You were talking a lot.”

Crowley hesitantly held up one hand as he folded his wings back out of sight, “Did you hear what I-“ Aziraphale ducked his head but not before Crowley saw the shimmer of tears. “Oh angel, I never meant for you to hear that. I’m sure it was horrific to hear.” He whispered, shame crushing his voice and he drew back. The last thing he expected was for Aziraphale to look up and push closer again. “You said you Loved me,” Aziraphale murmured and before Crowley could process that, soft lips were pressed against his and he was short circuiting.

The angel pulled away far too soon for Crowley’s liking, but he had no idea what was happening, “So I didn’t talk about… Falling?” Aziraphale grabbed his face with both hands and sighed, “You did talk about that. A week is an enormously long time when you’re watching someone you Love suffer.” Crowley melted into the next kiss, equal parts relieved and apprehensive. Aziraphale leaned back to swipe tears away and smile at Crowley.

“You also spoke about the Garden. About the wall, and our conversation.” Crowley suddenly found his hands very interesting and tried to lean back casually, “Oh, yeah that, it’s a fond memory.” Aziraphale’s smile grew as he laughed softly, “I never thought you were Public Enemy Number One. I was afraid that you were the opposite.” Crowley felt his ears heating up and tried to snort, “Well maybe I am.” Aziraphale almost purred as he slid onto Crowley’s lap, “Yes, you very much are.”

Crowley stopped breathing as he stared at the throat of the angel now seated on his thighs. “But I’m a demon, Fallen angel, the whole thing, unceremoniously tossed out-“ he found himself unable to stop talking until Aziraphale smugly kissed him. “Well dear, I don’t really care.” Crowley felt his Effort twitch and tried to think of something that would at least slow this down so he could focus.

Almost on cue, Aziraphale shifted back and pulled his face up to meet his eyes again. “I Loved you before this week and I will Love you after it. I didn’t ask for you to be Forgiven because of the rules. You are so gentle and kind and nice, and all of the things that you hate to hear me say,” the angel whispered to Crowley, who was stunned and frozen under the honest praise he never dreamed of receiving.

“Ngk,” was all Crowley managed before pulling Aziraphale flush against his body and shuddering into a deep kiss. Aziraphale took the next opportunity to press kisses up Crowley’s jaw and into the corner of his neck, making him squirm and his wings flicker in and out of reality. “Angel,” panted Crowley, already embarrassed at his lack of control, and Aziraphale hushed him. He felt fingers working into the muscles around the base of his middle wings and almost cried in pleasure, letting his shoulders sag as Aziraphale smoothed out the knots and tension. Crowley moaned in an absurdly needy pitch when Aziraphale moved to the lower set of wings, greedy hands pulling the angel flush to his hips and rolling up.

“Dearest, I’m working on it,” Crowley shivered at the words in his ear as Aziraphale smoothed the scapular feathers down and moved to the top set of wings. The feeling of muscles being worked to softness under the angel’s hands had Crowley grinding under him impatiently, fingers cupping his ass through a pair of soft pyjama pants. Aziraphale snapped his fingers and Crowley let his lips fall to a newly exposed collarbone to worry a bruise into the skin before him. He tugged his towel out from under Aziraphale and they both moaned at the sensation of heated skin on skin.

Crowley was pleased to see Aziraphale’s Effort was already as hard as his and he rutted against the angel seated just perfectly in his lap. Aziraphale rolled his hips in tiny circle and grabbed one of Crowley’s hands. To his surprise, he found a slick oil covering his hand and Aziraphale guided it back to his ass. Crowley opened his mouth to ask but before he could form the words, the angel tilted his head back with a positively desperate noise.

Crowley wasted no time sliding one finger deep into Aziraphale and relished the way the angel pressed into him, torn between fucking himself back on Crowley’s hand and seeking the warm friction against his throbbing cock between them. “Oh, f-fuck, Crowley,” gasped Aziraphale, oblivious to the shot of desire his debauched curse drove into Crowley’s Effort. He added another finger before twisting his wrist until Aziraphale was curving his back with a silent cry.

Crowley took this as an opportunity to dip his tongue in the angel’s sweet smell from the hollow of his collarbone and before Aziraphale could unwind his spine, Crowley pressed another finger in at the same angle. “Crowley, take me now, I’m- I need you,” Aziraphale was surprisingly coherent and so much needier than Crowley could have ever wished for. He obliged his angel, with a small miracle to coat his cock in the same oil before easing Aziraphale up and removing his fingers. Soft thighs tensed around his hips as he felt the overwhelming pressure and Crowley tipped his head back with a moan.

Aziraphale’s thighs shook as he took the full length of Crowley and he knew his angel wasn’t going to last from the scrabbling hands on his chest. Crowley called another small miracle to roll them over, grabbing Aziraphale’s legs and pressing them down as he shallowly fucked the angel who was now on his back. This proved to be exactly what they both wanted, Aziraphale sweetly calling his name with a clenching pressure that almost drove Crowley over the edge. The wave of Love that hit Crowley was enough to break his concentration and he was stuttering into his own orgasm, smashing his lips into Aziraphale’s as the other dug blunt nails into his chest.

A single tear dripped off of his speckled nose and Crowley placed his forehead against Aziraphale’s with a sigh. “M’okay,” he reassured the angel before the other could articulate the question. “Just a lot.” Aziraphale pulled Crowley up the bed to rest his head on the crook of his shoulder, and he sunk bonelessly into the position. “You are so Loved.” The angel stated it simply, as though it were a fundamental fact of post-apocalyptic physics. Crowley hid his face in his cascade of red curls but wove his arms around Aziraphale’s waist.

“I Love you too… Zira,” he whispered, the last two syllables slipping off of his tongue. Aziraphale smiled and combed one hand through Crowley’s hair, “I like it. When did you come up with it?” Crowley wiggled his toes for a few moments before answering honestly, “Germany. When you asked me what the J stood for.” Aziraphale laughed for a few minutes, then titled Crowley’s chin up to press another kiss between them.

* * *

They didn't leave Aziraphale's bed for another week. Crowley miracled a skylight above them one night and Aziraphale cried out when he noticed something he had never seen in six thousand years. A new star, bright enough to be seen from the debauched sheets they shared, with an inexplicable amount of Love radiating back to Earth. Crowley ducked his head and busied himself with memorizing the angel's back muscles. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is turning into an actual fic wtf is wrong with me  
come yell at me on tumblr @ [keeperofthesourcecode](http://keeperofthesourcecode.tumblr.com)


	4. Seven days in heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heartbreakingly emotional sex, can I hear a wahoo?

Crowley didn’t dare move a muscle when he woke up. Every morning for the past week, he had woken up to the soft snore of Aziraphale somewhere in the pillows to his left. This morning, the snore was replaced by a deep silence, and Crowley could feel the bed shift as Aziraphale stood up. He pretended to still be asleep, his heart somewhere in the bottom of his stomach. Aziraphale must have decided this wasn’t what he wanted after all and he was going to leave Crowley alone, taking the smell of crisp apples and warm vanilla with him. Crowley already felt cold.

Aziraphale’s footsteps whispered out of the room and Crowley rolled over, staring at the rumpled comforter amid pillows where Aziraphale had kissed him last night, eyes full of something that Crowley wasn’t sure he believed. He thought of ways he could slip out the door, until he heard the door to the bookshop open and close. His stomach clenched and he curled up, the morning sun spitefully filtering through the skylight he had miracled into the ceiling three nights before. Dust flickered in the beam of light and Crowley thought about a newborn star in the uncaring coldness of space.

It could have been hours, but it felt like just a few breaths before the bookshop door opened and closed again. Crowley crushed the singing bird of hope in his chest that Aziraphale hadn’t left him for good, he couldn’t ask for more than the week he was already given. He sat upright and swept his long hair into something resembling a bun, sneering at the golden freckles that glittered across his forearm. This must have been Her grand plan this year, giving him just a taste of what he had coveted for six thousand years.

Crowley heard a small clatter outside of the bedroom door and Aziraphale murmured “Oh dear,” before the angel appeared holding a brown bag with a coffee cup balanced between his fingers. “I knocked over a stack of books,” confessed Aziraphale before noticing Crowley’s discordant expression. “My dear, what’s wrong?” Crowley mumbled as he tried to wrangle his face under control, “M’just surprised you came back.” Aziraphale’s brow furrowed as his gaze settled on Crowley’s hands that were anxiously knotted in the sheets and he quickly moved forward to set their breakfast on the table beside the bed.

Crowley felt himself flush as Aziraphale placed gentle hands on either side of his face and tilted it up to lock eyes. “Dear heart, did you think I was leaving because of you?” Crowley let his eyes slide away and he shrugged, not sure what the truth would bring. “Please look at me.” Aziraphale’s tone did not leave room for argument and Crowley felt the blush deepen across his cheeks. “I’m still something else…” Crowley started but trailed off as Aziraphale’s expression darkened. “Are you going to say not worthy?” Strong emotion bled into the last two words and Crowley opened his mouth without a word. He foolishly closed it and swallowed hard before trying again, “Well I wasn’t going to say it like that, but, y’know, I was afraid you decided this was the wrong thing?” Crowley tried not to let it sound like a question but miserably failed and Aziraphale growled.

Crowley felt his stuttering heart catch in his throat, making an unintentional soft noise. So, that was something, Aziraphale growling. Before he could recover his composure, Aziraphale’s lips were on his and the hands on his face were pushing back into his hair, fingers pulling the knot out of his bun. Crowley melted as Aziraphale pushed him further back on the bed. The angel pulled back to press kisses along his jaw, making Crowley shiver and acknowledge he was still fully naked and sprawled across the very well-used bed.

Aziraphale’s intense gaze slowly rolled down his body and Crowley fought the urge to hide among the pillows at the headboard. “I think it’s time we deal with this,” said Aziraphale in a matter-of-fact tone, but before Crowley could ask what he was referring to, he found himself beneath Aziraphale and he sucked in a sharp breath at the feeling of still-clothed knees between his thighs. Crowley let his legs be spread wider and he whimpered involuntarily as Aziraphale’s hands settled onto his waist, fingers tracing over his skin lightly. He let himself be led into another greedy kiss, feeling ashamed of his desperation to be loved.

Aziraphale pulled back first, one hand sliding up Crowley’s back as the other pinned his left hip down. In a voice that echoed in dimensions Crowley normally ignored, Aziraphale poured Love over his shocked partner. “Do you remember when we met in the Garden, and you told me I was an angel and I couldn’t do the wrong thing?” Crowley nodded, overwhelmed as Aziraphale stroked between his primary set of wings, feeling incredibly exposed by the dozen set of eyes watching his movement. “I am not doing the wrong thing. _You_ are not the wrong thing.”

Aziraphale’s voice sounded like harps and the rushing of a clear creek and his fingers worked into the base of one of Crowley’s wings, forcing him to stifle a moan beneath the intensity of Aziraphale’s being. “Do not silence yourself,” the chorus commanded and Crowley felt his palms itch for reasons he was too afraid to think about. Aziraphale’s lips claimed his again but Crowley still heard him, “No one will ever hurt you again. No one will ever doubt the truth of your heart.” A lion roared as Aziraphale’s tongue slid across Crowley’s and a traitorous tear escaped down his cheek.

Crowley felt himself flinch at the thought of his heart, something that must be so abused to be faced with ethereal love and still doubt. Aziraphale pressed down on top of him, barely giving Crowley time to acknowledge that they were both naked now, and somewhere else a bull stomped it’s hoof. “You are mine, and mine always.” Aziraphale’s voice was seven trumpets and the inevitability of eternity, making Crowley pant and twist beneath the firm hand still anchoring his hip. “F-fuck, Zira, I need-“ Crowley’s plea was cut short as the rush of holy light flooded his veins, “Oh my- ssssomeone, heavenssss - fuck!”

His pupils blown into wide black diamonds, Crowley's ankles shook as Aziraphale summoned a miracle to prepare him. Whoever read their reports now would certainly note that flagrant abuse of power, and Aziraphale smirked as though he had heard Crowley’s thought. The wings of a large bird beat into the air around them and Crowley felt the many-eyed gaze Aziraphale bent upon him as the angel pressed his cock against him. He sobbed low in his throat, one hand pushing long hair out of his face as Aziraphale grabbed behind his knees and thrust all the way in. “My love,” rumbled the voice of thunder and Crowley smelled petrichor as lightning danced across his skin.

Crowley breathed in at the fray of this dimension, then his lungs collapsed as Aziraphale pulled out of him almost all the way and thrust back in without waiting for him to adjust. There was none of the usual hesitation or concern, Crowley knew he was going to have to take whatever Aziraphale thought he deserved and he could never have imagined this version of Heaven. Aziraphale continued at a brutal pace as Crowley moaned brokenly, wings twitching into visibility as his cock leaked between his bent legs. “Look how lovely you are,” chimed Aziraphale’s voice like the sun, blinding radiance and ratios etched into Crowley’s heart, “Look how divine.”

Crowley shuddered beneath the word, hands seeking Aziraphale’s as fingers dug into the bend behind his knees. Aziraphale stretched him open with every thrust and the light cascading into the room was the same color as the halo shining from another dimension above the angel’s multitude of eyes, and Crowley let the sight absolve him of his control. “Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love,” Aziraphale whispered in the space around him, “for I have put my trust in you.” Crowley tossed his head back and wrapped his legs around Aziraphale’s waist, lips trembling at the memory of an empty and cold bed that had sparked his anxiety that morning.

Aziraphale pulled his wings into this plane to wrap around Crowley’s and whispered an apology between kisses along his neck. Crowley gasped and curled his wings inside of Aziraphale’s as his orgasm crashed into him like a wave, the electricity between their feathers pushing his overstimulated body into bliss. Crowley felt Aziraphale’s steady pace falter and snap into a vicious rhythm as the angel fucked him with abandon, awed gaze on Crowley’s face as he moaned through his haze. Aziraphale stammered in a very human voice, “O-oh fuck,” and Crowley felt his cock slide deep inside of him as the angel came hard.

Aziraphale pulled out of Crowley with a wince and rolled to the bed beside him, tugging Crowley into his embrace as they renegotiated their spaces on the bed. Crowley’s world tilted as he tucked his face into Aziraphale’s shoulder, hands still shaking as Aziraphale rubbed his back. “Show me the way I should go,” murmured the angel and Crowley felt wings wrap around his again. “for to you I entrust my life.” Crowley whimpered as he tried to wiggle closer to Aziraphale, who simply held him and hummed.

* * *

Eventually Aziraphale's stomach rumbled and Crowley laughed weakly. The angel smiled as he combined fingers through the long red hair tangled across the pillow and leaned over to grab the bag of sweet pastries and long-forgotten cold coffee. They shared breakfast in the late morning sun and Crowley felt the warmth creeping through his chest, the small bird of hope and faith hopping from branch to branch in his heart. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in this house we project on touch-starved Crowley  
[I am on tumblr](http://keeperofthesourcecode.tumblr.com)


	5. Gratuitous flower porn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week turns into two, into a month, into two, and so on. Crowley and Aziraphale fall into a routine and the last piece of a celestial puzzle fall into place. Crowley's plants are hedonists.

He hadn’t thought of himself as a gardener in millennia. Creating things was too painful to think about, much less nurturing and coaxing growth from a place of love. 

Crowley stalked around his living room, spray bottle held out like a weapon. Aziraphale hummed as he walked out of the minimalist kitchen, cradling a warm cup of tea and smiling at Crowley’s quiet muttering. He loosened his stranglehold on the trigger of the mister, not sure how to act towards his flowers in front of Aziraphale. The angel surely wouldn’t approve of his usual methods.

Crowley’s palms itched and he absently rubbed his hand against his leg to smooth the skin, not paying attention to how Aziraphale frowned at the action. “Dear, have your hands been bothering you?” Aziraphale set his tea down and Crowley swiveled to face a particularly droopy rubber fig that began trembling and shrugged, “It’s nothing.” Aziraphale moved beside him and gently lifted Crowley’s unoccupied hand to examine it, then wrapped both hands around it. Crowley scrunched his nose as the crackle of electricity moved across his palm lines, but it didn’t burn like it should, and he held his breath until Aziraphale pressed a soft kiss to his knuckles.

“I still can’t feel what’s wrong,” Aziraphale murmured, raising seafoam eyes to meet Crowley’s serpentine gaze, “You would tell me if you knew.” It was a statement that sounded a bit like a question and Crowley nodded. It wasn’t entirely a lie. Crowley had a suspicion but was not planning to take any steps to confirm it in front of Aziraphale. If he was wrong, he didn’t want the weight of the truth to hang between them.

The weeks and months had slipped by in their new way of life. Crowley had finally extracted himself from Aziraphale’s bed to return to his own flat to check on his plants, and Aziraphale had insisted on accompanying him. Six thousand years was a long time to spend alone and neither of them wanted to waste any time making up for it. But this left Crowley with no time to investigate his vestigial symptoms of the Not Fall, at least not without alerting Aziraphale.

Crowley misted the rubber fig and reached out to run his fingers over the offending leaf. The plant curved into the touch, still trembling but curious about what it felt. Crowley’s eyes widened as the leaf pressed flat into his palm, fingers curling around the edge of the foliage. Aziraphale had busied himself across the room with his tea and a snake plant that was glowing under his gentle praise. Crowley snatched his hand away from the rubber fig, which drifted in the swirl of air and seemed to stretch towards him.

Crowley looked at his hand and willed himself to stop trembling. Aziraphale’s hand touched his upper arm and Crowley looked up just in time for soft lips to press against his. The angel was beaming and Crowley couldn’t help smiling in response, “Dear, you take such good care of your garden, I can see why they love you so much.” Crowley scoffed and aimed the nozzle like a pistol at the snake plant, “What’s the old saying about love and fear?”

Aziraphale shushed him and a soft hand pressed his wrist down, and Crowley realized all of the plants in the room had turned their leaves as though to face him. He swallowed hard and tried to rally some sort of witty reply but Aziraphale kissed him before he could get the words out. Crowley pushed forward into the warm breath of the angel and tossed the spray bottle over his shoulder. They made their way to Crowley’s gilded desk as limbs tangled in the process of removing various articles of clothing, some their own and some the others.

By the time Aziraphale’s thighs bumped into the desk, Crowley had lost his blazer and jeans while his hands pulled Aziraphale’s undershirt from his pants. Evening sunlight dappled his back and warmed his skin as his hands ghosted down between them to unbutton the linen trousers, Aziraphale groaning into his mouth. They pulled out of the kiss as Aziraphale tilted his head back, Crowley moving his slicked lips down to the angel’s jawline to feel the vibrations of his moans. With a sharp nip to Aziraphale’s throat, Crowley nudged him back to sit on the edge of the desk and parted his thighs after pushing the offending pants to the floor.

Aziraphale gave a stuttering laugh and Crowley looked up sharply, following the angel’s gaze to the shelves of plants that looked far more verdant than they had minutes ago. While Crowley glared at the leaves over Aziraphale’s shoulder, he felt thick legs wrap around his waist and lost his train of thought in the new friction between their bodies. Aziraphale’s hands tangled in his hair, pulling Crowley back in for a kiss that was only interrupted by the loss of another layer of fabric. Crowley’s shirt landed on the outstretched fond of a maidenhair fern and Aziraphale’s nails scratched down his bare chest, earning an involuntary serpentine hiss.

Crowley dug his fingers into Aziraphale’s thighs and ground his hard cock against the angel, already panting as Aziraphale wiggled his hips forward on the desk. Aziraphale pushed Crowley’s boxers down with a smirk and stroked his cock, slicking him with a quick miracle. Crowley shallowly thrust into the tight fist before grabbing Aziraphale’s wrist and coating his fingers in the oil in the angel’s palm. Aziraphale tilted his hips and rolled back onto his elbows, eyes fluttering as Crowley’s first finger twisted into him.

“Oh, angel,” Crowley murmured before leaning over to plant wet kisses to Aziraphale’s stomach. His skin was always so warm and Crowley marveled at the way he managed to exude wicked desire and pure love at the same time. Aziraphale was making breathy noises in his throat that rose in pitch when Crowley twisted his wrist to add another finger, making Crowley groan low in his chest as he stretched open the angel in his hand. “Fuck, you don’t know what you do to me like this,” he gasped and Aziraphale flushed as his cock twitched.

Aziraphale’s nails dug into the edge of the desk as Crowley added a third finger, Aziraphale’s needy whine pushing his arousal towards painful. “Crowley, I need you now,” the angel already sounded wrecked. “You always had me, angel,” Crowley whispered as he slid his fingers out to line his aching cock up to push into Aziraphale, “Since Eden.” “Fuck, I love you,” Aziraphale moaned and Crowley had no reply this time, reverently watching him arch his back and moan with every thrust.

Crowley had no idea how close he was. Every ounce of his body was tuned to Aziraphale, the sensation of pushing into the angel sent sparks racing along his spine. It was the same electricity that danced along his wings in the Garden, sheltered from the world’s first storm by pristine white feathers. Aziraphale’s strained forearms curved his body up to Crowley’s and he alternately pressed kisses and sucked bruises to the pale skin he could reach, “Harder, please my dear.” Crowley shivered and obeyed, each thrust forward pushing the desk a fraction of an inch across the floor as he bit back the first waves of an orgasm. Aziraphale’s breath caught and one elbow slipped out from under him, his flushed chest falling flat on the desk and hard cock bouncing on his lower belly.

“Oh my G- Ssssa- _Az-sssiraphale_,” Crowley knew his eyes must look like bottomless pools of gold but he wouldn’t have closed them for the world. He was lost in the sight of a desperately needy Aziraphale taking his cock in the small garden that Crowley had cultivated. He hadn’t even dreamed of this when they met in the Garden, hadn’t dared want something so kind and pure for himself. A hand settled on his waist as Aziraphale stroked his own cock in the other, keening as Crowley leaned forward on the next thrust and brushed his prostate. Crowley grunted and maintained the angle of his hips, watching in rapture as Aziraphale came over his fist in just a few deep thrusts. The angel was caught in a silent scream as he rode out his orgasm, his other hand digging blunt nails into Crowley’s side.

Aziraphale panted as he opened his eyes, hand and stomach sticky with his release, and he tightened his ankles at the small of Crowley’s back. “Dear, I need you to finish in me.” Crowley whimpered at the unabashed lust in the angel’s voice, tucking his face into Aziraphale’s chest and anchoring his hips to the desk with bruising hands. He felt the electricity trickle down his spine and he gasped when his own orgasm finally broke, hips stuttering to push him deeper in Aziraphale and fingers tightening into soft skin.

Crowley collapsed over Aziraphale on the desk, which was now almost to the stone wall of the large room. His softening prick slid out as he caught his breath, feeling the red lines of Aziraphale’s nails stretch across his side with every unnecessary inhale. Once the world had stopped shimmering at the edges, Crowley pressed a gentle kiss to the hollow of Aziraphale’s throat. Aziraphale started to shake beneath him and Crowley yanked away, pushing himself up with his hands on either side of Aziraphale’s chest on the desk, “Angel, what’s wrong?” When he found sky-blue eyes, he realized Aziraphale was laughing.

Crowley slid off of Aziraphale to stand and curled his lips, but before he could snark out a comment, he saw what Aziraphale was laughing at. The plants in the room now covered every inch of available space and practically looked phosphorescent in their vibrancy, the creeping clouds in the window assuring Crowley it was not reflected light creating the scene before him. The golden freckles across his nose and cheeks were glittering in the low light and all of the plants were stretching expectantly towards the center of the room. Crowley’s jaw dropped slightly and he was sure he looked as floored as he felt. “Uh,” he started and Aziraphale’s laughter stifled to a few giggles as the angel waited for him to come up with an excuse. “What the hell?”

This sent Aziraphale into another round of giggles, and the plants seemed to sway with the joy of an angel’s laughter. Crowley looked at his own hands with a crooked eyebrow, surprised by the absence of itching that had persistent for months. This cut off Aziraphale’s mirth and he sat up fully to stand from the desk by Crowley. Gentle hands turned Crowley’s with concern and goosebumps raced up his arms at the tenderness in Aziraphale’s touch. “M’fine,” he answered the question before it was posed, “The itching stopped.”

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows, whispering in a tone of adoration, “Crowley.” He blushed at his own name and shrugged. “Crowley, you did this.” Crowley lowered his eyes as Aziraphale pressed soft, lingering kisses to his palms. “I know,” he admitted, feeling rather exposed by the intensity of affection coming from Aziraphale. Aziraphale let go of his hands to grab his face and kiss him deeply, and behind Crowley a blue angel hosta bloomed a dozen small white flowers.

* * *

The bookshop slowly filled with dozens of plants. Some of the plants needed to be moved to larger pots, and they found homes on windowsills in warm sunlight. A young bright star, light years away, found itself at the barycenter of a green and blue planet, full of curious flowering species that bloomed with abundance and hope. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for letting me abuse Crowley for the sake of porn! .❀(*>◡<*)❀.  
I'll be back hopefully next week with a new fic, in the meantime find me [on tumblr](https://keeperofthesourcecode.tumblr.com)


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